The Little Things
by kittykatloren
Summary: Alternate title: "Haar's Daily FML Diary." A series of drabbles on all the everyday things Jill does which would drive Haar insane! Post-FE10 Radiant Dawn. CHAPTER 17: Naptime.
1. Strawberries

**A/N: **Living with Jill must be quite the experience for Haar! This fic will be a series of silly drabbles, all just for fun (because torturing Haar is unfortunately so entertaining!) Many thanks must go to **Improvisation**, my partner in crime in the new movement to flood FFN with Haar/Jill. We came up all these ideas together in one of many long Haar/Jill talks! I hope you enjoy. More to come soon!

As for setting, assume all of these are post-RD unless otherwise stated. I don't see them as modern AUs either. But hey. Stuff like that doesn't really matter in these drabbles anyway!

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize in this chapter and all future chapters belongs to Nintendo, not me.

* * *

She held the strawberry gingerly between two fingers and took very small, delicate bites. Her lips seemed to kiss the soft red flesh of the fruit, its pale pink juice dyeing her lips bright and tantalizing. A drop of the juice escaped her tongue and trickled down her chin instead.

Haar couldn't tear his eyes from the sight. But curse it all, he should not – no, he _could_ not think of her lips like that -

His knuckles were white with the force of his grip on the arms of his chair, forcibly restraining himself from jumping across the table and kissing the pink right off her lips, tasting the sweet juice on her skin, filling her mouth with his tongue rather than that damn _strawberry_ –

"_Stop it!"_ he told himself fiercely; he would _not_ allow his subconscious to wander in that direction –

"Huh?" Jill glanced up at him, the strawberry halfway to her slightly open mouth. Even her tongue was dyed a deeper red.

"That was out loud, wasn't it?" Haar muttered under his breath, taking care to ensure that this time, the words he said in his head really _were_ in his head. _Curse it all, curse it all, curse it all…_

She had to be teasing him. Surely she knew. Surely she was aware of the profound effect she was having on him, and did it with conscious purpose, not to seduce, but just to annoy… But her eyes were so wide and clear. It was all too obvious that she really had absolutely no idea what she did to him sometimes.

"You – you have some juice on your face," Haar said through gritted teeth.

"Oh," she said. Her tongue whipped out and caught it. "Thanks!"

Haar stared determinedly at the ceiling. Out of his periphery – she was, most inconveniently, not seated on his blind side – he saw her hold out the bowl of fresh strawberries.

"Do you want one?"


	2. Bathtub

**A/N:** Thanks to those who reviewed, keep 'em coming? ^^

* * *

"Haar? Hey, Haar, are you listening?"

"What?" he mumbled sleepily. He had been having a such a nice nap, and he so longed to fall asleep again…

"I'm in the bath, and I left my towel in my room. Can you bring it to me?"

Suddenly he wasn't very sleepy anymore. He couldn't quite believe his ears – perhaps he was dreaming? Knowing full well the various eccentricities of his half-awake subconscious, he wouldn't put it past himself to dream something like this…

"Please, Haar?" Jill begged.

Quickly Haar pinched his arm. Hard. No, he was definitely not dreaming. With a sigh, he rose from his comfortable bed, crossed to her room to fetch the towel (her room always smelled so very sweet, like grass and berries, so very like her), then he hurried out and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Um. How do you want me to do this?"

"I'm in the tub. Just close your eyes – er, eye – and bring it over here or something."

"Oh, of course. Just walk blindly into a room with a naked Jill in it. Because it's just that easy," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Haar took a deep, soothing breath and closed his eye very, very tightly. No sooner had he entered the room and taken more than a few cautious steps than his foot slipped on the damp tile floor, and he fell, face-first, towards the tub. Unconsciously he snapped open his eye to see the side of the tub rapidly approaching and a wide-eyed, wet-haired Jill, and then there was a flash of pain in his forehead, a shout from Jill…

The next thing he knew, he was looking up at an angel. A beautiful, nude angel, with a smooth-skinned and sparkling body, bright eyes, dark red hair…

_Red hair…_

"Jill?"

Vaguely Haar noticed a soft, damp something pressed warmly to the side of his head, but that realization was very much eclipsed by everything else he was currently sensing – the sight of Jill, naked above him, the smell of the soap she used, the water dripping from her hair onto his skin...

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake," she breathed. Haar couldn't tear his gaze away from her – his mind felt too exhausted to employ any semblance of self-discipline – and suddenly Jill noticed, her eyes narrowing. "Hey! Quit staring!"

Slowly, after a few bemused blinks, sheer indignation began to shake Haar out of his frozen (yet heavenly) stupor. "You're the one not wearing any clothes! Why didn't you at least cover up with the towel I brought you?"

"Because I was using it to clean your bleeding head! You were unconscious, I didn't have _time_ - "

He felt the bloody towel slap the side of his very sore head. Her feet scrambled on the slick floor, and then there was a splash.

"Out! Out!" she said. "I'm not done with my bath!"

"Just banishing the man with the head injury, then? How thoughtful," Haar growled, still somewhat shell-shocked as he stumbled out the door. The image of her freshly washed, naked body, hovering over him, caring and concerned, would not leave his overwrought mind, no matter how hard he attempted to _not_ think about it…

"Um… Haar? I need a clean towel…"


	3. Alcohol

**A/N:** This one actually has a bit more of serious tone. But, of course, it's still about Jill unconsciously torturing Haar...

* * *

"Hey. You smell good."

Jill grinned blithely up at him, clinging to his arm, burying her nose in his chest like a nuzzling kitten. Haar's heart skipped a beat. When her steps staggered, he tightened his arm around her waist to support her.

"And _you_ smell like alcohol," he said bluntly, but she only giggled.

The road was deserted save for themselves. They were almost back to Talrega Keep, having been invited into the village for a few drinks with some local acquaintances. It was Jill's first encounter with the devilish elixir of alcohol. Her whole face was flushed, and she could barely keep her feet. When she had started slurring her speech and laughing at the least funny of the other men's jokes, Haar had decided that it was time to take their leave.

"I like you," Jill mumbled happily. "A real lot!"

"Well, that's good. I like you too."

"No, I mean I _really_ like you. I _love_ you."

He had been afraid of that. His conscience was tingling irritably at the rush of pleasure that filled him at those words in her voice, on her lips. The few drinks he had had prickled most tantalizingly in the back of his mind, full of faint little whisperings to listen to her, to hold her, to love her…

They were at the threshold of Talrega Keep now, and Jill stumbled over a stray rock (or, more likely, a stray nothing) and nearly crashed head-first into the wooden door. Catching her just in time, Haar was forced to brace himself against the door instead, and Jill fell smoothly on top of him. With astonishing speed for one so inebriated, Jill pressed herself archly against him, her legs tangling between his, her arms snaking around his chest and back to grasp his belt. She yanked him forward against her, making him gasp.

"Jill. _Jill_ - "

"You can come with me, if'n you just lissen – "

"Jill!"

He didn't quite know how he said her name – it was a plea, but for what, he didn't know, because she _had_ to stop or else he might just listen to her after all –

Her head fell lazily onto his chest, kissing him there clumsily. Haar couldn't take it anymore. With willpower that he didn't know he possessed, he took Jill by the shoulders, forced her off of him, and staggered through the door, dragging her along with him. He didn't speak or look at her – and he tried very hard not to _think_ about her in any way, though he wasn't very successful. Finally he reached her room, and was just opening the door when he noticed she was crying. At once his loosened his tight grip on her arm.

"Jill, don't cry – come on, Jill - "

"It's – b'cause – you don' think I'm pretty," she accused tearfully. "You don' _like_ me."

She poked him sloppily with each word.

"Jill, that's not it. That's not it at all, I promise."

"Then _why_ - "

"Please, just trust me, just go to sleep," he said desperately. "Trust me, you need to sleep!"

Suddenly, her whole aspect fell, her posture slumping and loosening, and Haar took advantage of her momentary discomposure to force her into her bed. For a moment, he was looming above her, staring into her watery eyes, his hands fisted on either side of her head, and it would be so easy to do it, to make her so happy, to satisfy his own burning desire… Her hands clutched the collar of his shirt, her head craning up to him, the smell of alcohol on her breath…

Haar yanked her hands away from him and jumped out of her reach. He took just enough time to grab the blanket from the foot of her bed, toss it over her, and watch her heartbroken gaze following him until he slammed the door shut.

He collapsed against the door as soon as he closed it, sliding wearily to the floor. Resting his head on his knees, he took a few deep, soothing breaths, trying desperately to calm his pounding heart, an attempt not at all aided by the intermittent sniffles from the room behind him. Eventually, Jill fell silent, and yet Haar couldn't bring himself to move to his own room. He fell asleep there, against her door, his dreams familiar and taunting.

* * *

The next morning, he woke to the sound of retching. Without knocking – it didn't sound like she would be fit enough to respond, anyway – Haar walked in to the room to find Jill on her hands and knees on the floor, bent over a bucket, her hair loose and matted. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her bleary eyes. When she caught sight of him, she tried to straighten up, but she overbalanced and would have fallen over if Haar didn't rush to catch her. She heaved again, luckily into the bucket, and Haar settled onto his knees beside her. Gently he pulled all of her hair away from her face, waiting for her to finish.

"Why…" she moaned, "…does my head hurt so much?"

"You were a bit too indulgent last night," Haar said. With the back of his sleeve, he wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Was I?" she grimaced. "I can only remember a few drinks. Not that much…"

"You don't remember anything else?" Haar's heart was hammering oddly. He didn't know what he wanted her response to be.

"There was something… but, it couldn't be… I was probably dreaming…"

Haar stared at her, mouth open. She was _dreaming_ - ?

"So what _did_ happen last night, then?"

"It's better you don't know," Haar said darkly.

Frowning at him, she looked ready to respond, but then she lurched over the bucket again, and the subject was thankfully forgotten. Haar occupied himself with tying her hair into a sloppy ponytail, rubbing her back and shoulders, then fetching her some strong tea (which she promptly spat out because it was too bitter). But she thanked him anyway, smiling at him so kindly, so trustingly, that it made his heart twist.

"I'll never drink again," she vowed when not even Haar's excessive attentions seemed to diminish the severity of her discomfort. She splashed some cold water over her face. "This is _awful_."

Jill didn't even know the half of it. Haar sighed, handing her a towel so she could dry her face.


	4. Shirt

He heard her feet pattering down the hallway and looked up, a question on his mind – and then he stopped short. The words got lost somewhere on the way to his mouth.

Long, slender legs extended smoothly from underneath a large, loose shirt – one of _his_ shirts. For a moment he stared, eyebrows raised in approval – and then he remembered, this was Jill. Instantly he attempted to distract himself by taking a very calm, refined sip of water – which he promptly choked on when she sidled into the room quite casually, flopped herself into a chair next to him, and propped her feet up on the table.

"Hi, Haar," she said, helping herself to a drink of his water.

"Why," he managed, after taking a few seconds to clear his windpipe, "are you wearing one of my shirts?"

She looked down at herself in apparent surprise. "Oh. I needed something to wear while I washed my clothes."

_Don't look, don't look, don't say anything –_

Considering he only had one eye, he would have thought it would be easier to control his wandering gaze. On the contrary, his one eye seemed determined to make up for the lack of the other by fixating on her bared skin with double the fervor. _Damn, when she's sitting like that, her legs…_ he thought, unable to stop his subconscious from wandering just a little farther –

"Go put some real clothes on!" he growled. "Please," he added as an afterthought.

Jill looked suddenly affronted. "Well, pardon me for being too ugly to look at!"

"Oh, _that's_ not the problem, believe me," Haar muttered.

"Excuse me?" Jill leapt to her feet, frowning and crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest – her chest, incidentally, that was covered only by his thin shirt, nothing else –

"I'm going to go finish my laundry," she said huffily, and she stormed out of the room. Haar couldn't help but crane his neck at watch her dash off.

Then he turned to his glass of water and dumped the whole thing over his head, praying Jill wouldn't return and ask him why he was so wet.


	5. Cold

On the whole, Haar enjoyed winter. There was something very pleasing to his relaxed lifestyle about the silent blanket of snow, like a feather bed if only it were warm. Of course, he had never spent the winter in Talrega with only Jill for company – a very grown-up Jill, too. He'd always been with Shiharam too, before, or in the army, or in Ike's merry little band. He'd forgotten how cold it could get on those long nights, alone in his wool blanket and furs. The cold seeped into his very soul, seeming to slow his heart and mind, making thoughts form sluggishly and casting the world into a chilly gray haze.

It was when he could no longer feel his extremities that he decided he'd had enough. The worst part was knowing that Jill couldn't possibly be any warmer, either; if anything, she was colder, she was so small. With a gasp of shock at the bitingly icy air, Haar stumbled out of bed and into the sitting room, where there was a fireplace and chimney, thinking to start a blaze and sit close by all night long.

But in front of the fireplace, Jill was already sitting, crouched and huddled and stoking pathetic embers with a poker that trembled in her hand. Haar watched her shuddering breaths rise in a white puff before her.

"No luck with the fire?" he said.

Jill's head whipped around. She smiled in relief at the sight of him. Her lips were a little bit blue. "Y-you startled me," she said. "I'm t-too cold to get the firewood." She jerked her head at the pile of logs that stood right by the main door, which was straining and creaking with the cold wind from outside. Haar steeled himself, retrieved the wood, and returned to dump in on the embers. He tried to take the poker from Jill, but her fingers were frozen around the metal. For a moment, they looked at each other hopelessly. Jill raised her hand.

"W-warm me up?"

His own hands and body were no warmer than hers, he knew, so after a moment's hesitation, he bent his head and breathed on her frozen fingers. She gave a little sigh of relief. Sometimes, accidentally, his lips would brush her skin, but of course only Haar seemed to feel it, since she was so numb. It took some time, but eventually Haar could pry her fingers from the poker and begin to stoke the fire himself. With his careful attentions, the logs finally caught fire, and heat and the light were was welcome as the summer sun itself to them.

"Thanks, Haar," said Jill, flexing her fingers before the flames. Her lips were still blue and shivering. All of a sudden, he wanted, so much, to lean forward and warm them up too, to breathe the pink, bright life he was so accustomed to seeing back into her lips and cheeks…

"Let's sleep here tonight," Jill said. "I brought a pillow, and enough blankets that it feels like a mattress."

"Both of us?"

"Unless you'd rather freeze. Body heat, you know, better than fire."

Haar stared at her, eyebrows raised, but her gaze was wide and artless.

"Well – if you're sure," he said at last. He was rather cold, after all, and the thought of returning to his freezing, lonely bed was just as miserable as the thought of staying awake all night by the fire. Jill had suggested a perfect compromise indeed.

A smile cracked Jill's lips, and she immediately curled up close to Haar, pushing her pillow over so that the pair of them could share it. Following her lead, Haar threw his blanket over her too, so they were wrapped in a cocoon of wool, firelight, and each other. She was so bundled up in furs that he couldn't feel much of her bare skin – which was, admittedly, both a relief and a disappointment. But, all the same, her heat was pervasive, and it warmed him to the core. Her eyelids fluttered closed, but Haar could not sleep for reasons he refused to admit even to himself. There was something so intriguing in her sleeping face, with lips slightly parted and turning slowly back into a warm pink color – not in the least because they were so close to his own lips, his breath –

He sighed. Haar shifted and rested his arm across her shoulders, pulling her very closely and very snugly into his body – solely for the warmth, of course. And so he was no longer looking at her face. His rapidly waning reservoir of self-control never would have lasted the night, anyway.


	6. Cupcakes

He watched her surreptitiously as she mixed up his favorite treat – vanilla cupcakes. At first, he was watching in eager anticipation of what he knew the cupcake batter would become. But then something else happened that distracted him completely. Jill had been stirring so vehemently that a little bit of the batter escaped the bowl and landed on the corner of her pink lips. Her tongue whipped out to wipe it away.

Her expression changed the slightest bit – Haar thought it was only because he knew her so well that he noticed it at all; it was very subtle. Her eyebrow raised just a fraction, and she let her mouth fall open a little. She was discreetly pleased. Perhaps she knew Haar was watching her, and didn't want to look foolishly happy at something as childish as raw batter.

On the other hand, perhaps she _didn't_ realize – for she suddenly dipped her pinky into the bowl, sucked it clean, then very quickly did it again. She looked a little flushed at her own rebelliousness. Her soft lips pursed, cradling her fingertip in a tiny smile.

Haar thought, quite inadvertently, that _she_ would taste even sweeter than the cupcake batter, and he couldn't stop imagining it, until –

"Haar! What are you doing?"

Well, if he couldn't have her lips… He could at least have the next best thing. Haar sighed and strode over to her miniature bakery space. "Looks tasty," he said, and dipped his own finger into the bowl.

"Hey!"

Before he knew what was happening, Jill had snatched his finger in her mouth. Her small hands closed around his wrist. With an easy, nimble flick, her tongue whipped around the tip of his finger, warm and wet, catching almost all of the thick batter, though some escaped her ministrations and slipped down her chin. She glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes, sparkling with mirth.

Haar could only stare in shock. His conscience screamed remonstrances at the more primal part of his mind that jumped to wholly unwonted conclusions.

He didn't find his voice again until Jill mercifully – and regrettably – removed her mouth and, with the back of her hand, wiped the pale spot of extra batter off her skin. Even then, Haar's words came out a bit of a splutter.

"W-what was that for?"

She frowned at him, looking as if it were a perfectly obvious response to give someone's finger a blowjob in order to retrieve stray cupcake batter. "That's what happens when people touch my stuff. I get it back."

"_Really_?" said Haar, his imagination jumping into overdrive. His conscience cringed.

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Um, keep cooking. I'm looking forward to tasting your – cupcakes."

He didn't quite make it out of the room fast enough to escape hearing her delighted voice and the sound of a batter-soaked spoon waving through the air so that more specks landed all over the kitchen.

"Of course, Haar! Anytime!"


	7. Dream

Jill's long hair was free from its usual restraint, spilling over her bare shoulders and onto his chest as she crawled on top of him. He felt himself grinning unashamedly. With smooth, languid motions, he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her down to his lips –

"Haar! Wake up, Haar!"

He stirred in his bed at the sudden shout. As he yawned and stretched in the sheets, still barely conscious, he heard Jill stomping boldly into his room. But that couldn't be right, because Jill was there in his bed with him, wasn't she? She was sleeping with him… Haar smiled, relishing the sensation of her soft skin…

"Wake up already!"

Something warm and soft hit him in the face, and most unfortunately, it was not some part of Jill's body but rather a pillow thrown by Jill, who was, apparently, not in bed with him. He blinked blearily. Her face came into focus above him, her hair pulled back smartly, her eyes bright and chipper. She tilted her head thoughtfully as she spoke. "You were smiling in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?"

Haar gulped, his nerves tingling at the question. This Jill was most unlike the Jill of his recent dream that still lingered in his mind's eye. For one thing, this Jill was wearing clothes and a rather curious frown.

"You don't want to know," he said evasively, though still attempting his typical unconcerned air. He supposed he was successful, for Jill simply rolled her eyes and didn't pry.

"Well, fine then. Just get out of bed already."

Her hands moved to grip the sheets. Just in time, Haar realized what she was about to do. He panicked – only slightly – and snatched her wrists before she ripped his precious bedcovers away.

"Um. Please leave that there."

"Why?"

"I'm – cold."

"Cold? It's the middle of summer!"

"Well, it's – look, it's the morning, Jill…"

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed suddenly, a very deep and incredibly adorable shade of pink. She dropped the sheet like it was poisonous and, very stiffly, crossed her arms over her chest and stormed huffily out of the room. He thought he heard her mutter _"Men!"_ quite scathingly as she hurried away.

Stretching and sighing, Haar figured that since Jill probably wasn't going to come back again for a good long while, he might as well doze off again and get back to his dreaming. It really had been such a good dream…


	8. Rain

"By the Goddess! It's like the world flipped over and the lake is dumping out of the sky."

Jill shut the door hurriedly, but some water and thunderclaps still followed her inside, and the noise made Haar look up from the piece of wood he had been carving absentmindedly. Under most circumstances, it would have just been a passing glance, a reflex at her presence. But this, he realized quite quickly, was not "most circumstances."

She was soaked through to the bone. Her long, dark hair was plastered over her forehead and shoulders, much of it blown loose from its tight ponytail and clinging to her checks, her neck. When she blinked, droplets of water sparkled off her eyelashes. But what was most unusual, distracting, and – he could not help it – _captivating_ – was her thin, pale white tunic, clinging almost transparently to her body. She stood there so innocently, so temptingly, every line of her undergarments and even a little more visible ever so clearly to Haar. Worse still, Jill began to stretch, saying something Haar didn't quite understand about a long day of riding.

He watched numbly as she pulled each of her arms alternately across her chest, pressing her breasts together in the most tantalizing way possible. She was not finished, however. With a languid, catlike movement, she leaned forward and touched her toes with her fingertips. Most conveniently, her shirt finally relinquished its desperate grasp of her dampened skin. She had untied it a bit at the top, for comfort's sake, and now it billowed below her chest, exposing smooth and creamy skin.

Despite himself, Haar couldn't help but watch her as she straightened up again, than bent back as far as she could go in a graceful arc, her arms extended above her head. Tilting his head, Haar watched with a mild, tingling sense of guilt that was largely overpowered by instinctual appreciation.


	9. Massage

Doubled over and grimacing, Jill staggered into the room where Haar was sitting reading an old book of Shiharam's. He glanced up when he heard her collapse in a heap onto the couch, watching her curl up with her knees against her stomach. "You okay, Jill?" Haar asked.

"Yes," she muttered. "No. I mean. No, but there's nothing I can do about it. It's always this way."

He stared. Realization clicked in his brain. "Oh," he said, and hurried back to his book. He wouldn't have looked up again if it were for her pleading voice; he could hardly ignore her when she sounded so pitiful.

"Haar? Can you do me a favor?"

He sighed. He'd have to be a fiend of a man if he denied her anything right now. "Sure. What is it?"

"Can you give me a tummy a massage?"

"A – what?"

Jill nodded, her eyes wide and imploring. "Please, Haar? It'll help so much…"

There was no hope of concentrating now. Haar tossed the book away, strode reluctantly over to the couch, but froze beside her, still not sure exactly what he was supposed to do. He gulped and rubbed the back of his neck. Jill didn't say a word, only looked at him with those wretched eyes. Finally Haar gave in; he sat down, conceded to her request. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

Jill beamed. Without warning, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her stomach – under her shirt, no less, her skin warm and soft and smooth – and smiled at him expectantly. He gulped again.

"That's it… oh, thank you, Haar… ahh…"


	10. Dress

**A/N:** Modern-AUish setting, I suppose. Surely, by now, Jill knows what she's doing... surely...

* * *

"Well? How's this, Haar?"

She strode into his room without further preamble. At once, Haar's jaw dropped.

She was wearing what could only be classified as lingerie, surely. _Surely_. The slinky black dress clung to her every curve, cut so short that it revealed almost the entirety of her smooth, long legs; she was even wearing heels that were so high and strappy they looked like torture devices. Unconsciously, he scanned her up and down. Her breasts were practically spilling out of the low-cut, lacy, strapless top of the dress. She even turned in a slow circle for him, and he noticed that the dress really fit her perfectly, highlighting every flawless curve –

"Well?" she said again.

It took Haar a couple seconds before he could make his mouth move precisely enough to form coherent words. "No. _No_. There is no way in hell I'm letting you out in public in that."

"Excuse me? Who are you, my father?" Jill accused, red in the face.

"No!" said Haar. Based on the thoughts going through his head at the moment, if he were anything akin to her father, he should be arrested. "Dammit, Jill, it's not that I – I mean - "

"What, then? I look terrible, don't I?"

"_No_! That's not it at all, believe me - "

"Then why?"

"I – well, I can't – you _can't_ wear that, Jill. Every guy in the room will spend the whole night staring at your chest or your ass instead of your face, and it pisses me off."

Jill blinked. "I – what?"

Haar realized, belatedly, what he'd just said (and, to a degree that he hoped she hadn't noticed, how it somewhat highlighted his own hypocrisy.) He swallowed. "Look, Jill, just… change into something else, please?"

"Fine," she sighed, relenting at last. "God. You're hopeless."

"When did you even get that dress, anyway?" Haar called at her retreating form.

"Shopping with Mist back in Melior. She said it suited me perfectly, you know - "

Haar made a mental note to never let Jill out with Mist and a budget ever again, lest she come home with something even worse. _Or should I say… even better?_ teased a small, primal part of Haar's mind.

Hurriedly Haar headed to his bathroom, filled the sink with cold water, and dunked his head.


	11. Revenge

**A/N:** And finally... Haar's revenge! Poor Jill doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. Anyway, unless further ideas/prompts/requests materialize in my brain (or in reviews!), this is about all I've got for this story! So feel free to leave any ideas you may have of Haar-torturing (or Jill-torturing?) and I'll give it my best shot.

* * *

Summer rumbled on with an endless string of hot, dreadfully sweaty days. It was once such day, when the sun seemed particularly merciless, when Haar walked in from the courtyard without his shirt on. Jill noticed, blushing only slightly at first; it was normal for him, in the noonday heat, to do a little of the outdoor chores without a shirt so as to keep himself a little cooler. But even when inside, fixing himself a bite to eat and perusing the dusty bookshelves, he still didn't put his shirt back on. Jill didn't quite know what to make of it, but all too soon she realized that it was incredibly distracting. No matter what she was doing, she couldn't help but steal glances at him, glances that would sometimes linger, on his scarred and sweaty skin and firm, chiseled muscles…

"Haar!" she exclaimed, suddenly and sharply.

"Yes?" he said, glancing innocently over his shoulder at her.

"Will you – please – put a shirt on?" she said.

He smiled winningly. "No."

"No?" repeated Jill. The simplicity, directness, and ease with which he gave his answer astonished her. "W-what do you mean, no?"

"I mean, no, I will not put a shirt on. Probably not for the rest of the summer, either."

She gaped at him. He said it unashamedly, then returned to his everyday routine, even having the gall to ask her if she knew where he'd left his favorite whittling knife. Jill could only splutter.

"Why – why aren't you going to put on a shirt?"

"Simple," said Haar, and most inconveniently, he approached her and drew very close, so she could feel his body heat pressing against her, enveloping her. He leaned his head down a bit, grinning wickedly.

"_Revenge_."

And with that, he strode out of the room, leaving Jill flustered and bewildered in his wake.


	12. Flirting

**A/N:** A little more Jill-torturing, though I doubt the score will ever be entirely even. Haar's more fun to torture.

* * *

She watched from afar as one of the village girls batted her eyelashes and simpered winningly up at Haar, her short bob of black hair smooth and shining in the sunlight. Loose strands tickled across her pink cheeks as she laughed. Jill watched, steaming with fury, while the girl leaned closer to Haar, who didn't back away.

All the soldiers of Talrega were being treated to lunch by the villagers, an annual tradition. In such a small town, it wasn't much, but it was a chance for some easy friendships – or more – to form. The day always ended up being just giggles, flirting, and general frivolity. Jill hated it. The men just lazed around all day getting their egos inflated.

But this year was especially bad. The black-haired girl had singled out Haar like a cat on the prowl. She clung to him, literally clung – there was her hand, fixed upon the muscles of his upper arm – and even worse, there was Haar, leaning into her ear as if to whisper a lover's secret –

Jill tore her eyes away and stormed off. No one seemed to notice her go, but she found she didn't have the energy to care. Rather, she just paced and stewed and tried not to think about just why she was so inordinately furious.


	13. Stumble

**A/N:** This could be the last one for a while, ideas running dry... Maybe in the next one, one (or both) of them will just throw propriety and respect to the winds? Anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

The sun blazed so brightly overhead that Haar, for once, thought longingly of the muddy, disaster-prone river just a little ways away. After hauling up buckets, filtering out some of the dirt, and mixing the remaining water with extra soap, Haar and Jill were now at the mercy of the relentless sun as they attempted to give their wyverns a much-needed bath and relief from the heat.

Haar had already stripped off his shirt. It was far too hot for it; his skin was already soaked in sweat. Jill shot him oddly irritated glances over her wyvern's back, forced to remain clad in her tunic, though the collar was untied and the sleeves rolled up high. Her skin gleamed in the bright afternoon light.

"Men have it so much easier," she said at least, rolling her eyes.

"There's no law against women taking their shirts off when it's this scorching, you know."

"Ha, ha," said Jill, throwing a wet rag at his face.

With reflexes born of Shiharam's battle training, Haar slapped the rag away, then grinned, crossing to the other side of his shiny black wyvern so he would be closer to her. "You really want to start that? You sure?"

"Try me!"

"Unfair advantage," Haar said, pointing to Jill's jade-green wyvern currently standing between them. "No shields. One-on-one combat only."

Jill smirked. "Sounds fair to me," she said, picking up her bucket. Some of the soapy water sloshed out as she did so. She stepped into his line of sight with the spilled water soaking her shirt till it was nearly transparent. Little puffs of soap clung to her bare skin.

Haar barely had time to blink before Jill rushed towards him – and promptly tripped over her wyvern's suddenly sweeping, extended tail.

The soapy water went flying over the both of them, soaking them through and falling with a clatter somewhere behind Haar. But that was nothing compared to the catastrophe of Jill's sudden lack of coordination. Admittedly, it might not have been her fault. But that didn't solve the problem.

Both of Jill's feet left the ground; the force of her approach sent her flying through the air, then crashing into him. Haar, unprepared, staggered under her weight and slipped, slamming into the mud. Squinting through soap and sun, Haar found himself looking very closely into Jill's shocked face. She was splayed across him, her legs tangling with his, her chest practically spilling out of her low-flung tunic. Her face and her lips were so close to his skin that he could feel her breath hotter than the sun.

"Dear gods above," muttered Haar, closing his eyes and giving up entirely.


	14. Countertop

Sometimes – no, often – Jill did things that were, in Haar's eyes, utterly unnecessary, incredibly irritating, and unimaginably alluring. Even if they were simple things. Like sitting on a countertop.

A calm, level-headed Haar walked into the kitchen one afternoon with nothing on his mind save for a small snack then perhaps a long nap on the couch. He came across Jill in their shared kitchen. For some unfathomable reason, she was sitting on the kitchen counter reading an old book of Shiharam's. Her hand was closed around a fresh apple, but so engrossed was she in her novel that she hadn't taken a single bite. Poised on the counter, her legs resting loose, comfortable, and oddly spread apart, she turned a page noisily, apparently not even noticing Haar staring at her with a very odd, constrained expression on his face.

For it had just occurred to him that Jill was sitting at precisely the right height at which he might straddle her.

Unbidden, precocious images of himself doing just that - being right there, knocking the book and the apple out of her capable hands, ripping her tunic from her seductive body, taking her, filling her – flooded his previously serene and untroubled mind.

Haar bolted from the room before Jill had even acknowledged his presence. Leaning against the cold stone wall, Haar breathed and breathed, but he still couldn't quite attain a less lecherous state of mind. It was just no use.

It was just yet another occupational hazard, he supposed, of living with Jill.


	15. Boost

**A/N:** Suspend disbelief for a second here. Ladders, stools, wyverns, tree climbing, or sitting on shoulders wouldn't be nearly as much fun. Maybe Jill intentionally didn't think this through! I said this before, so you never know really, but this is the last of my current ideas until inspiration strikes again!

* * *

"Hey, Haar! Haar, come out and help me for a bit. Please?"

Haar sighed. It was cool and shady inside the house and hot and sunny outside, but Jill's voice floated through the open window, begging for his invaluable assistance and expertise, and he was powerless to resist.

"What are you doing?" Haar called as he walked outside.

"I'm in the back."

Peering around the corner, Haar found Jill standing forlornly under one of their apple trees. All summer it had been laden with swelling fruits, and now they were red and ripe at last.

"I can't reach the best ones," Jill pleaded. "They're too high up for you, too. But if you give me a boost, I can get them for us!"

"A boost?"

"Yes. Just lift me up, so I can reach." Jill raised her arms, stretching as high as she could, though her fingertips were still quite far from the apples in question. Her shirt rode up as she reached, baring the pale skin of her stomach.

"_Please_?"

"Oh, fine," said Haar. Steeling himself, he stepped up to her, placed both hands on her waist, and met her shining eyes. He managed a quick smile, too.

Then he heaved her up towards the branches. Jill wriggled and stretched in his arms, and his face fell directly into her chest. His face was buried in her fine, supple breasts, but Jill, oblivious to everything save for her juicy prize, didn't seem to notice or care.

She shifted again, meaning that Haar had to grip her even more tightly around her slender waist lest she fall and he lose this excellent view. _No, lest she fall and hurt herself, or drop all the apples, that's the reason._ Her long legs pressed against his crotch as she tried to glean more support. Haar gulped. He could hear (only distantly over the blood pounding in his ears, though with the way certain parts of him felt at the moment, he was surprised there was blood to spare for his head) the snapping sound of many apples being yanked from their branches.

"All right, I've got a good armful now, do you think that's enough?"

"Oh, well, you can never have too many apples," Haar said. His voice came out muffled, surrounded by her scent.

"Okay, I'll get some more! Don't drop me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

"What?"

"Nothing…"


	16. Someday

**A/N:** This time it's Haar that's been drinking, instead of Jill... so a little bit more serious and less comedic than most chapters. I hope this comes off as sweet not creepy, since I think Jill's about 12 here? I dunno... I hope it feels natural, I didn't want to overdo Haar's drunkenness. I imagine he's the type that can hold his liquor well.

More serious tone for this one, but Jill still gets a little bit of heartache, so I hope it fits!

* * *

She had never seen Haar quite so relaxed. He was smiling so broadly, his face tinged the slightest bit more red than usual. As she watched him sit down heavily in front of the fire, right next to her, she marveled at his easy manner and the unfamiliar scent that lingered on his breath.

"What're you still doing up this late, little Jill?" he asked.

"Where've _you_ been?" she shot back. Something was different about him, most certainly, and Jill was pretty sure that she knew what it was.

"Just in the village with the boys."

"In the tavern?"

"I like to make an appearance there once in a blue moon, yes." He grinned. "You'll know someday."

"Those drinks taste _gross_," Jill said with a frown. "How can you even like them?"

Haar's grin faded a bit. "Sometimes it's good to forget about everything bad for a little while, and just think about what you want to think about. It's more fun that way. Thinking of the good things." When his one good eye focused on her, his smile returned, sweeter this time. He lifted his big hand and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Like what a beauty you're going to be someday. Just look at you."

Instantly Jill felt her cheeks burn as hot and red as her hair, and she stumbled over her words; she didn't even know what words they were. Haar only laughed, pulling her close in a one-armed hug, which she was grateful for because at least there, so close to him, he couldn't see her silly blush.

"He'll be a lucky man who gets you, Jill," Haar said as he flopped down on the floor, his arm still around her so she was forced to lie down beside him. "You're going to be beautiful someday, you know? You _are_ beautiful. You are."

Something in her chest grew very tight. No one but her father had ever called her beautiful before.

Jill opened her mouth to speak before she noticed Haar's deep, steady breaths and gentle snoring. She could feel the vibrations from his chest with every breath. He was already sound asleep, and so Jill was trapped there under his arm, her heart beating so fast she felt she could barely breathe, much less sleep.

As she lay there, wide awake, she wondered if he'd have ever said the same to her if he _hadn't_ been drinking, and if he would even remember the thought in the morning.


	17. Naptime

"All right. My turn for a nap," Jill yawned.

Haar watched her bemusedly as she stretched her arms high above her head, then flopped her head down on his lap. Absently he patted her messy red hair. For a while, they remained that way; Jill slightly curled next him, his hand resting on her head while he, too began to doze off…

Then she started shifting. Haar opened his eye to see her readjusting and flipping onto her other side. Now he was wide awake. Her hands, in loose little fists under her chin, and her mouth, slightly open, were pressed directly into his crotch, and Jill, still sound asleep, appeared not to notice. Which was a blessing, really; if she _did_ notice the sudden change in comfort level of her Haar-pillow…

Haar groaned and closed his eye again, trying very hard to fall asleep again like he could usually do with such ease. But no luck this time. He supposed he was stuck here until such time as Jill felt appropriate to wake up.

He glanced down at her again. Which was a mistake, because then his imagination went spinning out of his control… but after all, she couldn't read his mind, so since he had nothing better to do…

_Might as well not resist,_ he thought, with the barest hint of a smile.


End file.
